


Campus

by slothinsocks



Series: Babysitter [1]
Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fucking, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Maxwell Lord Being an Asshole, Oral Sex, Smut, Soft Max Lord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slothinsocks/pseuds/slothinsocks
Summary: You are babysitter to Maxwell Lord’s son, Alistair. After a long night at work, Lord opens up to you for the first time — and then some.
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/Reader
Series: Babysitter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089254
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Campus

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written an /reader fic before in my entire life, so I apologize if this isn’t great.
> 
> I’m just extremely thirsty for Max Lord.

The summer of 1984 — the summer of dreams. Spring had come and gone, as the month of May was nearing its end. Washington D.C had become a sprawling, populated city of excitement and people with dreams, aspirations. The Summer Olympics were preparing to take place in July, and things had never seemed more bustling than they were now. Everyone seemed preoccupied, and more importantly, everyone seemed distracted.

You, on the other hand, were set to have quite the hectic summer. Between your summer classes at Howard University, studying business, and keeping a steady job as a babysitter, you finally began to have some excitement about the future. Moving away from home and into a dormitory with other girls had finally gifted you the opportunity to spread your wings and explore, thankfully. 

As close as you were with your family, college was meant to be a new and exciting experience. Being on the precipice of your twentieth birthday had only sparked such a blur of excitement — things were shaping up to be good for you. 

You’d been a babysitter for Maxwell Lord for a handful of months now, and it’d easily been your favorite job of any you’d held before. Working in downtrodden restaurants and bagging groceries had appeared horrible compared to the smooth sailing that was babysitting. You’d gotten quite attached to Lord’s only son, Alistair, who proved to be both intelligent and very sweet.

The two of you went to the park often, ice cream outings and playing with Alistair’s Star Wars action figures on the floor of his bedroom. You were initially hesitant and nervous when accepting this job, but it was something you wouldn’t trade for anything else. You had been blessed with a fortune beyond belief, so it seemed.

Maxwell Lord was a different subject, however. You knew how busy and dismissive Alistair’s father could be, though the more you’d spoken to him when he’d come home from work, the more you began to see a hardworking man beneath the business persona. He was very intelligent, driven, and wildly ambitious — you’d also told some of your girlfriends that he was painfully attractive. 

He was divorced, so you’d heard in passing and from Alistair himself. Now that his mother had gotten a boyfriend and had changed jobs, Max was left with his son more often — and that gave you a job. Most nights, you would keep him entertained until Max returned home, usually late and typically disjointed. However, your summer classes seemed to go lighter on the workload, and that left you with more spare time on your hands, not as much to worry about.

Not to mention, his home was rather lavish. However, given that you were well aware of Max’s position as a businessman and oil tycoon, you weren’t shocked at the splendor of his home. It was quite massive, even for just two people. All of his furnishings were posh leather, the fixtures and architecture a pretty marble and stone. You wished you had the sort of space that he had — you envied it. Now that you lived in a dormitory, space was so difficult to come by, let alone a speck of privacy. Max Lord seemed to have everything you wished you could have. 

That night, it was your typical routine — fix dinner for yourself and Alistair, watch a little bit of TV, and go up to his bedroom to play with his figures. It was always a mixture of Star Wars and Masters of the Universe, or one or the other. You liked how imaginative Alistair could be — always thinking up these extensive stories and scenarios. You supposed he got it from his father.

You were situated on the floor, legs crossed behind you as Alistair rammed He-Man into your Skeletor. “You’re getting blown up! You need to fall over,” Alistair reminded you, and charged again to make sure you went with the ‘script’.

“Oh no! He’s got me!” You exclaimed, mashing the Skeletor figure into the carpet. “He-Man is too powerful! He’s blowing me up with his sword!” You cried, stifling laughter as Alistair made silly noises, most of them resembling explosions or the clash of swords.

“I win!” Alistair proclaimed, placing his He-Man figure over yours, making sure Skeletor was properly stomped on before he stood up. He began to giggle, and you checked your watch, realizing that Max would be home at any minute. He insisted he’d come back earlier tonight, and so you wanted to make sure the house was clean and Alistair was ready for bed.

“You need to let me win sometime!” You chided, standing up as you helped the boy tidy his bedroom. “Your dad’s going to be home soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” You let Alistair pick out what pajamas he wanted to wear as he dressed and changed, taking a hold of your hand as you made for the hallway. 

“Can you give me a piggyback ride?” Alistair pleaded, tugging on your hand as the two of you stopped at the stone staircase. You hesitated, and that only sparked a new wave of begging as he tugged again. “Please?” He insisted, giving you the puppy eyes that you knew you wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“Fine, fine!” You struggled to keep your composure, giggles and laughter bubbling to the surface as you crouched down, feeling Alistair clamor atop your back, arms wrapped around your neck. You carried him down the steps, being careful where you walked during your descent. “Look at that! You’re as tall as me when you’re up here.” You teased.

Alistair laughed, holding tightly to you as you stopped upon the terrace before the last flight of stairs. The set of doors opened as Max entered into his home, suit jacket draped over one arm with his briefcase in the other hand. He caught sight of both you and his son — something seemed off, you could sense it right away. His hesitation, the frustration painted upon his expression … It wasn’t your place or your business, but you wondered what happened.

“Daddy!” The boy waved from your back, and you made sure to cautiously finish stepping down until you were fully on the floor. Alistair lept from your back, running to see his father who weakly crouched to greet him with a hug. “You’re home!” He beamed, happy to see his father after a very lengthy day at his job.

You smiled, noticing the facade that Maxwell put up in front of his son. You’d done the same thing when people at work happened to upset you — it was a familiar notion. You made sure to gather your belongings and place them near the doorway, never to overstay your welcome. “Hi, Mr. Lord.” You flashed him a polite smile. “Do you want me to take Alistair to bed before I go?” You asked.

“I’ll do it this time,” His voice, albeit strained, seemed rather genuine. “I’d like to speak with you, if you have time.” Maxwell had never asked to talk to you before you’d left for the evening, which struck you as odd. You decided to wait, nonetheless — maybe he was going to fire you. The mere thought of potentially losing your job within the next ten minutes might’ve ruined you if it weren’t for Alistair being present.

“Of course, Mr. Lord. I’ll wait here.” You replied, stomach beginning to swirl with nervousness. You had an inkling that this was about your job performance or about you no longer being employed. Maybe that was why he was putting Alistair to bed — explain to him why you wouldn’t be around anymore. Anxiety swelled within you as you took a seat in his living room, awkwardly perched upon the end of the couch.

Truthfully, you would’ve been losing quite a bit if you lost your job. Not only would you lose your bond with Alistair, but you’d miss seeing Maxwell. There was certainly an appeal to the businessman that made your heart flutter whenever you two spoke. He was quite familiar with you, given the many times you’d held conversation. He was handsome, so forthcoming and intriguing — you found your mind began to wander the more you stayed on the topic of Max Lord. 

A soft sigh escaped you as you listened to Max’s footsteps quiet down as he took Alistair to bed. It would prove to be a painful wait as you sat downstairs on his couch, deciding to distract yourself by ogling the various artwork and curios he had displayed instead. It was a very long ten minutes — ten minutes of nail-biting anticipation. When you heard him come back down the stairs, you nearly jumped off of the couch to barrage him with questions.

“Thank you for staying, Y/N. I know your studies are important, so I won’t keep you for too long.” Max began, circling around the couch as he sat at the other end. The stress and frustration were palpable now, even if he neatly concealed it behind a cordial tone of voice. “I understand that you’re supposed to be paid this Friday, but I’ll have to move it back to next weekend.” He sighed. “Having trouble with investors.” Max trailed off.

“Oh!” You gasped, pressing a hand over your heart. “Oh, that is absolutely fine, Mr. Lord!” Relief washed over you, your expression becoming sheepish as you admitted to what you thought it was. “I thought you were coming down here to tell me I’m fired.” You blushed, ducking your head to twiddle your hands within your lap.

“No!” Max shook his head, leaning forward upon the couch. “No, of course not.” He reassured you with a softer smile, his brown eyes fluttering over you once or twice. He stood up, moving toward a cabinet situated along the wall. “I hope you don’t mind,” He sighed, pouring himself a very hefty glass of scotch before he returned to the couch, placing the bottle on the glass table. “Things have been stressful lately.”

You shook your head, a sign of reassurance as he began to drink. You wanted to inquire about what had been so stressful in his life that it warranted frustration and drinking — not that it was bad, necessarily. You were worried for him, hoping that this wasn’t the beginning of Max Lord’s downward spiral. Before you could ask, he was already on his second glass, though he seemed to cut himself off.

“I don’t mean to pry, but … Is everything okay, Mr. Lord? I understand if you don’t want to tell me.” You hesitated, fingers wringing nervously into your skirt. You hoped he didn’t mistake your genuine concern as nosiness. “You can talk to me. I know that whenever I’m upset, my friends let me vent to them. I always feel a little better,” You suggested with a smile.

His expression softened, as if he were touched and warmed by your proposition. Maxwell had never really had someone who cared enough to ask about his feelings, ask him if everything was alright. He stared at you, dark hues drinking you in as if you were an oasis within the desert. He found you beautiful — intelligent, gentle, and sweet. Of course, he would keep these feelings to himself for fear you’d become uncomfortable. You were barely twenty. 

“It’s just Max, honey.” The affectionate nickname might’ve slipped, but he decided not to think anything of it. His head hung slightly as he swirled the glass of scotch within his hands, shoulders slouching as if he were feeling dejected. His true feelings were beginning to bubble to the surface, the frustration and the notion that he would never be good enough — never be successful enough. “I don’t want to plague you with my problems.” He hesitated.

You reached forward, lightly settling a palm against his shoulder. “You aren’t plaguing me with anything, Mr. L— Max.” You corrected yourself, canting your head to one side as he finally lifted his head again. This side of him seemed so different from the smug, boisterous man she’d seen on the television countless times before. Truthfully, it put your nerves at ease a bit knowing that he was like this. “What’s wrong?” You asked again. 

Max chuckled, breathy and soft before he finally sat up a little straighter. You swiftly took your hand away, not wanting it to linger and make anything awkward. Your hands returned to fidget within your lap, waiting for Max to open up to you about what was going on. His fingers idly drummed along the glass he held, as if he were contemplating on what to tell her. 

“I feel as if I’m failing,” Max’s voice had lowered to a husky octave, as if he were afraid of the admission itself. His eyes fluttered toward your visage as if to seek acceptance or a response, though he continued nonetheless. “Investors are dropping out, money is being lost, and I feel like a fool.” He shook his head, hand tensing around the glass. 

“I don’t think you’re foolish at all, Max.” You replied, tracing one finger along the pronounced wrinkles of your skirt, giving you something to distract yourself with as you talked to him. You were always known for your comfort and good listening skills — those seemed important to utilize now. “From the way I look at it, you’ve built a corporation from the ground, up. Not many people can claim to do what you’ve done. There’s obstacles now, but … It’ll be worth it, don’t you think?”

Max hesitated, lips twitching into a thin, appreciative smile, as if he were silently thanking you for your encouragement and positive outlook. “Thank you,” He shrugged, more to say. “There are too many obstacles that I keep running into now. I’m beginning to wonder if this was the right decision.” He pushed a hand through his hair, exasperated whenever he dwelled on his failures. “I want to be something to people.” 

You considered your next choice of words carefully, a rosy blush beginning to settle upon your features. “We all face resistance when we’re on the path we want the most, you know? Getting into Howard was so difficult! All of the work, missing outings to study … There’s always going to be roadblocks.” You replied, tilting your head to one side. “You are someone, Max. I know how much Alistair loves you,” You reassured him. “Always telling me how amazing his daddy is.” 

He was receptive to your response, momentarily staring down at his empty glass with a wistful smile. “There’s always more,” Max sighed, and even with all of the positive encouragement you provided him, he still felt that something was amiss. “There will always be something better.” He ran a hand across his face, stopping himself before he said anything else. “But you’re right — about everything. I suppose I’m still trying to see it.” He chuckled. 

You managed a smile, feeling as if your words had fallen upon deaf ears. Even then, what comfort you provided him would always be worthwhile — you just wanted him to know that you’d be there for him. “It takes time, but you shouldn’t worry. You’re a very …” You were decisive on what you said next, trying to find the more ‘less awkward’ route. “You’re a good man. I’m really happy to have this opportunity.”

Max finally smiled fully — genuine enough to make your heart stutter within your chest, as if registering his gesture. The two of you would sink into a comfortable silence, as if it were time being spent to process what the other had said. Whenever you happened to be looking away or fidgeting with your skirt, Max’s dark eyes were glued to you, and they couldn’t pry themselves away. It was one of the first times where he felt appreciated — and it happened to be from you, of all people.

“Thank you.” Max wanted to leap into a tirade about how perfect and kind you were, how understanding, how magnificent … But he simply couldn’t. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, run the risk of scaring you away or causing something that would make you view him differently. 

Instead, he brought up the topic of school, summer classes, and how you were enjoying business. It was nearly nine o’clock when you’d launched into this conversation. You’d asked Max all about the intricacies of running a corporation, the art of the deal, business practices, the things you found so tedious and boring about it. You’d talked about how some of the lectures had put you to sleep, much to your embarrassment.

You told him about your aspirations, about your desire to help people and how you wanted to see others flourish and succeed. You told Max about how nice and liberating it was to live in a dormitory at nineteen, even if it was stuffy and crowded and your friends constantly brought boys around. Your conversations seemed so endless — it had gone off in many different directions. 

Max had proposed helping you with whatever problems you encountered in business, his tone sincere and as kind as could be. He’d talked briefly about his divorce from his ex-wife and the struggles of being a single father, but he was determined to give Alistair the very best. You saw that as incredibly important and selfless. Your talks and tanguts had droned on for nearly an hour and a half, and when you’d glanced at the clock again, it was close to ten thirty at night.

“I’m so sorry for overstaying my welcome! I didn’t know it was so late, I’m sure you’re wanting me out of your hair.” You laughed, smoothing a palm across your skirt. You’d kicked off your flats somewhere during the lengthy conversation you’d had with Max, leaning down to try and see where they’d gone.

A hand closed around your arm, gently coaxing you upright again. Max had gotten close, warm breath fanning across your face. Goosebumps broke out along your spine, and your shudder had spawned into a full-body tremor at his closeness. You felt warm, a blush breaking out across your cheeks. This must’ve been because of the alcohol … Unless he wasn’t a lightweight.

“Max?” You breathed, feeling his hand slip underneath your chin. There was a short deliberation, as if he were waiting to see you recoil or turn away. Involuntarily, you shifted towards him, your eyes fluttering toward his lips, which were parted just enough … It was too much of a temptation, too much of a need for you to just turn away from him. 

Warm lips melded themselves against yours, the taste of alcohol present upon his mouth. It wasn’t overwhelming to you, just different — you could scarcely comprehend what was happening when the sudden realization finally smacked into you.

You were kissing Max Lord — you, the babysitter.

A tremble would rattle your spine as you attempted to reciprocate the kiss, even with your clear lack of experience, you tried for him. He was initially careful, but as moments ticked by, your entanglement had devolved into something sloppy and passionate. Your hands hadn’t a clue of what to do with themselves, so you reached for the collar of his shirt instead, skirt riding up your legs just an inch or two.

Never before had something ignited a fire in you so rapidly, until Max’s mouth was tangled against yours, his head tilting slightly as to deepen your embrace. A low, breathy groan escaped him, yet the passionate lip lock you were engaged in seemed to swallow it whole. You wanted this to last an eternity, fingers sweeping around his pressed, cotton shirt until he’d suddenly stopped, as if a switch had flipped.

Max pulled back, dark eyes widening just a bit as he caught sight of you pressed back against the arm of the couch. Your shirt was ruffled, skirt having ridden up enough so that he could start to see the beginnings of your inner thigh. His mouth went dry, and even through his tispy antics, he knew that this wasn’t right. You were nineteen, but you were also his babysitter — and he was flushed, exasperated, and apologetic.

“I — I didn’t mean to do that,” He stammered, afraid that you’d run away — afraid that you’d tell. Max saw the bewildered, fascinated look within your eyes, and he was half expecting you to call him a creep and tell him off for his drunken advances. He felt rather clear, clear enough to know that the situation the two of you were now in was tense. “Jesus, I’m sorry.” Max wanted to slap himself for that, but it didn’t cease the desire he had for you.

You gulped thickly, shaking your head back and forth. You were on the brink of making a very risky and promiscuous decision, but it was something that you couldn’t keep avoiding. It was something that needed to be let out, and then, perhaps, you could decide what to do with the mess you’d made. You leaned forward, moving closer instead as your fingers wrapped around one of his suspenders to coax him against you.

“Don’t be sorry,” You murmured, your face almost as ruddy and flushed as his. For all of your embarrassment, something told you that this was right — this needed to happen, and you needed it more than anything else. You needed him. “I liked it, Max.” It was a hushed admission, and it got his attention so, so quickly. “I — I …” You stammered, biting at your lower lip. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Max stared at you, a stutter of a breath escaping him. It seemed that he was just as excited and shocked about this as you were, hesitantly reaching forward until his large, rough hand settled against your hip. The teasing nature of your skirt was enough to get him going, but the way you’d told him you liked it … His head was swimming, now. Instead of speaking again, he hastily clashed his lips against yours, vigorous and passionate as ever.

His sudden entanglement of your lips and his made you gasp, yet you reciprocated with every ounce of effort that you could, tugging on the band of his suspenders as he pushed himself closer. Your parted lips had only become a gateway as his tongue made itself known. You were flustered, a mess within his presence as you shyly let your tongue mesh with his. A low groan sounded in the back of his throat as he kissed you hard, squeezing at your hip again.

One knee pushed between your thighs as Max’s chest was almost pressed against yours, each kiss leaving a searing, yearning feeling in its wake. You were beginning to feel warmth pool between your legs, an indescribable arousal that had shocked you to your core. You’d never been intimate with someone, but you were familiar with your own body … Max was doing something wonderful to it, that much you knew for certain.

His lips parted from yours for just a moment, his other hand beginning to ghost underneath your skirt, fingertips skimming across your inner thigh. Max’s expression had become incredibly possessive, needy and lustful as he neared your womanhood. Fingers teased and flicked at the band of your panties, yet he didn’t delve underneath the fabric. His deliberation drew out a whimper from you.

Instead, Max planted kisses against your neck, wanting to know what his actions had done to you. The mere thought of you being wet for him was enough to drive him to the brink, and the anticipation was killing him. At last, two digits stroked over your slit over the fabric, able to feel the arousal that had gathered there. Judging from your reaction, there was something else that Max needed to know.

He sat back, collecting you into his lap, though only situated you against one of his legs, the friction just slight, but it made you quiver. You caught sight of his visage in its entirety, seeing the way he looked at you … No one had looked at you like that before, as if you were absolutely perfect — so special, so flawless within his eyes. 

Max straightened up, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. His breath hitched within his throat before he finally forced out his inquiry, “Have you been fucked before, honey?” It was such a vulgar question, but something that made his cock twitch within his pants knowing that the answer from you would most likely be a no. He was painfully hard, kissing at your jaw to keep from moaning.

“No,” You whispered your reply, slick between your thighs as his hands finally settled against your hips. You wanted him to touch you so badly that you had to bite back a needy plea, your palms splayed out against his chest. “I — I want you, Max,” You moaned, unable to properly handle the delays and the stalling anymore. You wanted him to have it all, to have every piece of you. It filled you with a dizzying, euphoric sensation. “Please.”

“Lay down,” Max instructed you with a more tempered tone this time, yet he still retained some of his gentleness from before. He moved to take off his suspenders, rolling up his sleeves until they were almost at the crook of his elbows. He watched you closely, seeing you recline against the couch, your skirt falling back. “Shit,” He breathed, gulping thickly as he began to hover over you. “Spread your legs.” This time, the order was a little more firm.

You were a bit embarrassed to do so, but you obeyed him without question, feeling him move until he was situated between your legs. He reached down to hastily unbutton your blouse, one hand greedily cupping at your breast through your brassiere. You moaned, having difficulty with keeping your volume to a minimum as he sat you up, prying off your clothes to where he could wrestle that bra off of you.

“Perfect,” Max uttered, your mouths meeting again and again, kisses becoming heated and sloppy as his hand groped and kneaded at your sensitive breasts. He could hear those soft, needy whimpers whenever he parted for a mere second, kissing at your jaw and then your neck. His lips were everywhere, suckling and teeth grazing, scraping against your neck as to leave several marks. 

One hand slipped to curl around the waistband of your panties, giving them a tug as he began to work them down your legs. Max sat back, your legs on either side of him as he discarded the fabric somewhere beyond his couch, rough hands tracing around your thighs. “So beautiful,” He nearly groaned, not bothering with your skirt. He liked seeing it all bunched and pooled around your hips — it was a sight for his eyes only. 

You were in something of a daze, keeping your legs apart for him as Max closed in on top of you. He wrestled with his belt, hasty and almost a touch impatient as he unzipped the front of his trousers. Of course, before he could fuck you, he wanted to touch you. “M-Max,” You moaned, your core aching for him as his fingers skimmed closer, two digits dipping between your thighs to give you some sort of relief. You pressed the back of your hand to your lips to keep from crying out, head hanging forward.

“Jesus,” Max breathed, sucking in a sharp breath as he rubbed his fingers along your slit. You were deliciously soaked, causing his mouth to go agape with the way you squirmed and writhed around his fingers alone. He didn’t want you to become undone and cum too fast, but he did provide a bit of pleasure, languidly rubbing one finger against your clit. “Tell me how it feels, baby.” He murmured, capturing your mouth in another heated kiss.

“I-It feels …” You were barely able to force the words out, whimpering again when he stroked at your slit. Even with his deliberation and slowness, you were absolutely entranced. “So good.” You whined, biting at your lower lip again to keep from making too much noise. “I— I want you …” There was something else you wanted him to do, but the thought of saying such a dirty word made you blush. 

Max shuddered at the sight before him — the sight of you trembling and quivering around his fingers. If this was how he got you with just his hand, he only pictured what you’d look like on his tongue, or on his cock. The distance between the both of you was scarce, his lips pressing against yours again, yet he didn’t go very far. “You want me to do what?” He asked, stroking your clit as you fumbled and clamored to say what you desperately needed to say. “Tell me, honey.” Max purred, seeing the way your expression contorted into one of utter bliss.

“Fuck me,” You forced it out, no matter how filthy it sounded on your tongue, you needed to say it. “Please, Max,” You pleaded, fingers curling into the material of his shirt, tugging upon it multiple times to accentuate your point. The way he called you honey had always made you quiver, filled your stomach with a peculiar sensation — butterflies, more or less. “I want you to fuck me,” You said it again, your voice hitching up another octave.

Your plea made his pupils dilate, a sharp exhale escaping him before he finished wrangling with the front of his trousers. Max moved the material away just enough, his erect cock falling out against your thigh. He was bigger than you expected — well, from what your friends had told you, at least. His length was throbbing against you, begging for a release just like you were. Wordlessly, he rubbed the head of his cock against your slit, testing the waters before he sank forward.

A groan tore past Max’s lips at the tightness of your cunt, his hands situating themselves against your hips for now. “Fuck,” He breathed, rolling himself forward again as each inch of his cock buried itself deep inside of you. Once he bottomed out, his hands then grappled onto your thighs, forcing them apart, though he held on with a snug grip. “You feel so good,” He groaned, keenly aware that he would be the first to do this to you.

You were writhing, back beginning to arch off of the couch as he penetrated you. You held onto the arm of the sofa, the other hand splayed along one of the cushions. This was the first time you were feeling a sensation like this, tears stinging your eyes, heart thrumming within your chest, and mouth parted again. It wasn’t painful at all, really — just a little discomforting at first until he began to move, rolling himself back and forth at a sluggish pace.

The two of you moaned in unison when he snapped his hips forward, driving himself into you with a fervor. As much as Max wanted to be gentle for your first time, he couldn’t help himself. One hand came to brace against the arm of the couch, the other kneading and digging into your rump, so hard that it was likely to leave marks. 

His cock began to pound inside of you, a forward and backward motion, flesh against flesh. Your forehead touched, a mess of sharp breaths and pants, your moans filling the space between the two of you. You held onto him for support, relishing in that closeness as he really began to drive himself into you, pushing your leg up to gain a new angle. 

“Max!” You squeaked, legs trembling as your head fell back a bit, teeth biting down hard upon your lower lip. His pace had increased exponentially, and at the rate in which he fucked you into the couch, neither of you were going to last very long. Precum leaked from him, making the plunge into your cunt a little easier. He kissed you again, groaning into your mouth before his hand repositioned to rest against your throat.

He moaned your name, applying a hint of pressure just underneath your jaw, still having leverage with your legs as he rutted into you as if it would be the last time. His cock didn’t stop — he pounded into you until your hips clashed together, providing such a friction that it made you see stars. You wished that something like this could last forever … Nothing would ever be the same. 

With another thrust, Max hunched over, a tremble causing him to shake as his grip remained snug around your throat. “O— Oh,” It was a sinful moan, one that caused your cheeks to burn as he started to come undone on top of you. Of course, your own orgasm was right behind his, your breaths hot and heavy, intermingled with the other. “Fuck, honey,” Max groaned near your ear, biting near the crook of your neck and shoulder as he snapped his hips into you again.

The aching, the burning you felt was absolutely incredible, and your cunt began to clench tightly around him as he rocked you into your first orgasm. Your face was buried near his, head hanging forward, your skin flushed and covered in a thin layer of perspiration. You rolled your hips against his one last time, feeling the grip upon your throat begin to slack completely. “Max,” You moaned his name, a lazy string of incoherent words and whimpers.

He spilled himself into you, sticky and hot as he attempted to compose himself in the process. Max let your leg drop, and you could immediately tell that they would be wobbly for a little while. Hovering over you, he pressed his lips to yours — sweetly this time, caressing your cheek with the pad of this thumb. Your half-lidded gaze fluttered to meet his, dazed and starstruck. The rise and fall of your chest had shifted from heavy to shallow, finally able to mellow out.

Max kept himself inside of you even still, wanting to remain there for just a moment longer. He pressed kisses above each of your breasts, trailing along your collarbone before he ended up at your shoulder. His roughness had devolved into something caring, even affectionate as he pulled out of you with a lewd noise. You could barely process what had just happened, but you were certain about one thing — you wanted to do that again … But just with him.

His thumb caressed your lower lip, and finally sat back with a huff, tucking himself back into his trousers before he zipped them up. Your clothing was scattered everywhere — from the back of the couch to his glass coffee table. Sheepishly, you grabbed the throw blanket draped across the back of the sofa to try and cover yourself a bit. 

“I’m going to go get some water,” You whispered, sheepish and flustered as ever. You quickly moved from the couch, feeling the soreness and wobble in your legs as you left the living room, traipsing into the kitchen instead. You could feel his eyes on you even still, and when you’d made it to the kitchen, it allowed you a moment alone.

You were smiling so much that you almost felt like a fool. Everything felt incredible — you felt wonderful, despite being a bit disheveled and sweaty. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you hastily filled it with water from the tap, taking several greedy gulps. Had you really just lost your virginity? To Max Lord, of all people? What were your friends going to think when you turned up with hickeys on your neck? A grin on your face, knowing that you did?

You sighed, adjusting the blanket around you, even if you still wore your skirt. It was close to midnight — was it even worth trying to go back to your dormitory? Maybe it would be easier to explain tomorrow … You were pulled from your thoughts as a pair of arms circled around you from behind, hands slithering underneath the blanket.

“Running so soon?” Max crooned, pressing kisses all along your shoulders, against your spine, brushing your hair away to kiss against the nape of your neck. “I’m not finished with you just yet, honey.” His whisper was lustful, full of a possessive desire, and you could feel those greedy hands push your skirt off until the pink garment was on the kitchen floor. He turned you around to face him, cupping one hand underneath your chin. “I want to taste you.” He murmured, his dark eyes seeming to glint through the barely-lit kitchen. 

“M-Max,” You stammered, rendered speechless as he picked you up by your hips, placing you atop the spacious counter. The blanket was still wrapped around you, goosebumps breaking out all along your body, the prickling of anticipation. You draped your arms around his neck, fingers tensing near the collar of his shirt as he closed in for another passionate kiss. It was like fire, yet there was a rougher edge to it — clearly, the flame of desire. 

A moan escaped you when he finally unraveled the blanket, as if he were unwrapping a gift just for him. Those large hands settled themselves upon your thighs, forcing them apart as he’d done before. Max crouched enough to get himself level with his prize, watching the color spread throughout your cheeks again like a tidal wave. “Perfection.” He sighed, pressing kisses against your inner thighs, draping both of your legs over his shoulders. “Relax, honey.” Max encouraged, noticing how tense you’d gotten.

You nodded, bracing your hands back against the smooth countertop, nails digging into the granite as his lips crept upwards, feather-light kisses circling along your thighs. You choked back a pleasured sob as his tongue slid up against your slit, his actions intentionally drawn-out to make you squeal and squirm. “Oh my,” You moaned, toes curling in anticipation as he parted your folds with his tongue, drinking you in with great enthusiasm.

Max didn’t need to look up at you just yet — he already had an inkling that you were a mess again. One hand braced against your thigh, the other sliding up to rest along your left hip. The pad of his thumb traced against your skin, reveling in its softness. As his tongue thrust against your slit, his lips pursed around your clit, giving it a few gentle tugs to see how you’d enjoy such a thing. Your hips bucked into his face, causing him to let out a groan. “You taste divine,” Max uttered.

You whimpered, a high-pitched, pitiful noise as he looked up at you from between your trembling thighs. Your eyes met for just a moment, effectively turning your stomach to nothing from just a mere look. He smirked, returning his attention to your cunt, licking another stripe up the length of your slit before he began to lap at your clit. 

You had to clasp a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out his name, head hanging back as you choked out another needy whine. “K-Keep going, Max,” You stammered, legs tensing and shifting against his shoulders. He grabbed at your thighs, pulling you closer and down onto his mouth, tongue threatening to penetrate you as he continued to eat you out. 

It wasn’t entirely a surprise that you’d gotten wet again from his tongue — Max was savoring every second, every shiver. The way you shuddered and writhed on his tongue filled him with a satisfaction, a certain smugness. His tongue was relentless, thrusting against your core with a force as one of your hands reached down to brace against his shoulder.

“I want you to cum for me, honey,” Max breathed, fingers caressing your inner thigh as he drew out a second orgasm from you without much effort. He didn’t stop lapping at your cunt until you gave him exactly what he wanted, and when you finally came, Max was more than pleased. He cleaned you up, rising from between your legs with a smirk. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, picking the blanket up from the tiled floor. “Are you okay?” He’d ask you, pressing a kiss against your jaw.

You nodded several times over, feeling your eyes become heavy — from being tired, and from the wave of bliss that had washed over you. “Yeah, I …” You blushed, trying to meet his gaze, but you were so flustered that it proved to be difficult. His fingers tilted your chin upward so that he could see how scarlet your cheeks were. “I’m perfect.” You murmured, taking the blanket from his hands.

“Yes,” Max uttered, dragging his thumb across your chin, caressing along your jaw with a tender touch. “You are perfect.” He let you wrap yourself up in the blanket, fetching your skirt as he picked you up. Max could tell that you were exhausted, and he was still a little buzzed and tipsy from the alcohol he’d had earlier. Nonetheless, he carried you upstairs. It was too late for you to be out driving — Max decided to let you stay and leave early in the morning.

You didn’t have the time to properly absorb the details of his bedroom. By the time he’d put you down, you were sound asleep, still tangled within the blanket you’d grabbed from the couch. 

—

When you woke up, you were in Max’s bed — you remembered him picking you up, but you certainly didn’t remember this. Groggy and sluggish as you began to come to, you rubbed at your eyes, seeing the first rays of the sun pour through the windows …

And then last night came back to you in a wave. The kiss, the sex on the couch, him putting you up on the countertop. Not only that, but you suddenly remembered that Alistair was just a few rooms over, and that you had to technically be here to babysit him in an hour. 

Scrambling out of bed, you were a flurry as you frantically searched for your clothes — only to find them in a neat pile on the foot of his bed. All of your belongings were there too, your purse, shoes, even your car keys were all present as if someone wanted you out as soon as possible. 

As you quickly got dressed, you heard footsteps approaching the door — they didn’t sound light enough to be Alistair’s, thankfully. The door opened and shut with a thud, and Max was standing there, appearing stressed and passive. That definitely wasn’t how he behaved last night, and it genuinely shocked you to see the frustration on his face when he looked at you.

“You need to leave as soon as possible.” 

You had just woken up, a disoriented mess, and the first words from Max’s mouth were telling you to get out of his house. You were so happy, so giggly and euphoric after last night that this felt like a horrible dream. You were shell shocked, your reality shattering and cracking as you stood there, unsure of what to say or what to do.

“W-What?” You stammered, terrified that you’d done something wrong. Did something happen while you were asleep? Did Alistair wake up and see something? You had no idea, but you felt your face grow hot from both shock and anxiousness. “But what about Alistair? I’m supposed to work today, I can’t —“

“I’ll find someone else.” Max ran a hand over his face, seeing just how floored and hurt you were. “Listen, last night shouldn’t have happened.” His words were like the deadliest of poisons, striking you right at the heart. He seemed entirely serious, and it finally brought you to the realization that this wasn’t a nightmare, and that he was completely serious. “You need to leave.” He said again.

“Wait!” You were a mess instantaneously. You began to blubber, tears spilling over your eyes, throat growing thick as you stumbled toward him. “Wait, please don’t fire me.” You sobbed, shaking your head back and forth. You were in a state of disbelief. “I — I’m sorry if you’re upset about last night, but I can’t lose this job. I love Alistair, I don’t want to leave.” 

Max hesitated, sucking in a sharp inhale before he closed his eyes. His demeanor had changed so much from last night — this wasn’t the man you’d talked to. This didn’t seem like the man you’d had so many conversations with, one you looked up to. “We shouldn’t have done that last night,” He reiterated. “I won’t fire you … But you need to understand that we won’t ever be doing that again.” He quipped. “I need you to forget that anything happened.” 

“O-Okay,” It still hurt. You were hoping something would come of last night, but it turned out that your wishful thinking had gotten you nowhere. You didn’t have any regrets, but it certainly seemed to be the opposite with him. You were still crying, truly disappointed and upset, but at least you still had this job. That was the most important part — Alistair.

You gathered your things, unable to properly look him in the eye. “I’ll be back in an hour, I — I’m really sorry.” You apologized, seeing the way his shoulders had slumped in what was either defeat or disappointment. You assumed it was probably something else. You didn’t look back as you quickly left his room, rushing downstairs and outside.

As soon as you were out, you broke down. 

Your car ride back to your dorm to get cleaned up for the rest of the day proved to be just as disastrous, but maybe this was for the best. It was just wishful thinking, after all. Sometimes, wishes didn’t come true.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic! If it goes well, expect more /reader fics in the future! I had a blast writing this, and don’t worry ...
> 
> There’s a part two. ;)


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